You Could Be Happy
by TheSouthernScribe
Summary: The Snow Patrol Diaries Entry #4 - The breakup with Nyota from Spock's point of view. Inspired by the Snow Patrol song with the same title.


_The next entry to the Snow Patrol Diaries; this one is really high on my favorite songs list. It's beautiful, but it always makes me just a little melancholy. I'm glad that so many of you are enjoying the stories inspired by the songs. I will probably do two more unless I get a request for any additional songs. As always, thanks for reading. It's nice to know people are paying attention and enjoying my musings. _

_**Disclaimer – I don't own the characters or the franchise, but I love them. I also do not own any Snow Patrol lyrics but they often make me cry. **_

_**You Could Be Happy**_

The day was inevitable.

Since the first time Nyota had innocently kissed him in response to the news that she had been fast tracked to becoming an officer. What Spock had not been prepared for was the elation felt when her lips touched his or the subsequent sadness when he mourned their departure. Nyota's eyes were full of hope. He knew in the end her heart would break. Instead of ending the doomed relationship before it could begin, Spock accepted the tiny caramel hand that reached for the olive toned skin of his own. He watched as her delicate fingers encircled his, following the motion of the images dancing in her head of additional kisses, quiet dinners, and intimate evenings. Nyota's thoughts warmed him and evoked silly childhood fantasies that the Vulcan once desired.

Still Spock always felt the tug of the future decision he would be forced to make. This moment, the love, was only temporary. So, he continued to worship her, waiting for the day when Nyota would come to the realization that he was unworthy; unable to support her emotionally, and unwilling to cherish her in a manner she deserved. Spock waited for Nyota to open her eyes. He continued to fall deeper; allowing her visions to become synonymous with his. Spock pictured a beautiful little girl with Nyota's smile and his pointy ears. He saw his mother walking hand in hand with Nyota retelling stories of his youth on Vulcan. She was happy to have a kindred spirit who understood what it meant to be a human in love with a deeply passionate Vulcan. Spock's eyes misted for a moment as he lingered on the almost memory.

Nyota allowed him to embrace humanity, but it scared Spock. It made him fearful that someone could bring so much joy to his life and it could end; tragically.

Could he imagine life without her?

Could he accept her making a decision to leave him?

Could he stand by and watch her share those thoughtful glances, deep kisses, and tender touches with another?

Could he allow her to have control?

So now he stands before her, the epitome of Vulcan control; refusing to allow her access to pain that he feels. Denying Nyota the knowledge of the tears he cried before she walked through his door. Spock knew at this moment he would change Nyota's view of him and possibly love. He longed to touch her face and erase the pain that was evident. He desired to carry her to his bed and show her with his body how deep the love for her burned within.

Control.

Spock had to remain in command of his emotions.

Although his mind lingered on the lullabies Nyota would sing to lull him to sleep after a nightmare about his mother's death. The mother she reminded his so much of. The mother who had loved him unconditionally and never asked that Spock mask any portion of his psyche. Nyota had accepted him; the cool demeanor that would not crack under sentiment as well as the animalistic urges that surfaced during their love making. Her ability to soothe him with the lightest touch or softest syllable; no he would not focus on those things at this time.

Instead Spock concentrated on the prepared words he'd memorized. The sentences he'd prepared that he did not want to utter.

_Do the things that you always wanted to. _

_Without me there to hold you back, don't think just do. _

He closed his eyes attempting to block out her face. The tears that continued to dampen the skin he longed to taste. He heard the whimper and fought to avoid enveloping her in his arms. How could he hurt the one person that had been his strength at the most difficult time in his life? The bond Spock shared with Nyota was stronger than the one forged with T'Pring during his younger years. Through that bond Nyota had sent strength and healing that allowed him to function daily as he mourned for his mother and planet. Now, he only sent pain.

In time she would pick up the pieces. Nyota would find love; a relationship she deserved. There was no shortage of suitors. One in particular had watched quietly in the wings. He knew given the opportunity that the man would stand by her and wait for his opportunity. While he wanted Nyota to move beyond the pain, selfishly Spock wanted to know that some part of her would always love him; unable to move on without him in her life Fighting to recapture what they had once shared.

In the end it was Nyota who placed her arms gently around his waist and buried her face in his chest. Her shoulders heaved with each sob and granting a last request, Spock wrapped his own arms around her body. She cried until she had nothing else to give. Imparting one last look, Nyota smoothed her uniform, wiped the tears from her eyes and walked out of the door. Spock fell to the floor and allowed his tears to over take him. What had he done?

Years later after the birth of his children, Spock's mind would often wonder what features they would possess had their mother been Nyota. In moments of deep meditation he could still sense her presence. He felt peace at those times. Yet he still possessed regrets. There were moments when the Vulcan felt deep anger, especially when evidence of Nyota's present life traveled across the bond that remained intact. Yes, she had recovered, finding love with his former friend, Leonard McCoy. She was a mother now, but not to his children.

"You are mine," a vow that he had once spoken in her ear and now they were merely a memory.

A distant memory on the wind…


End file.
